


Strength and Weakness

by EverThePhantom



Category: Magic Kaito
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Wordcount: 100-1.000, Wordcount: 500-1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 19:31:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14879837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EverThePhantom/pseuds/EverThePhantom
Summary: "Kaito looked at his hands and thought again about how many more calluses he’d have in the future from practicing magic. He’d always shown off and compared each new one with his dad’s. Oyaji would never see his next callus."





	Strength and Weakness

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Sunday Morning](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14867078) by [JustCharlieBruh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustCharlieBruh/pseuds/JustCharlieBruh). 



Kaito didn’t really feel it until a month after the fact.

Until then, nothing but _be strong for Okaa-san_ and _Poker Face_ ran through his mind and heart like strings through a puppet.

That first week was like the sad beginning of a movie. People didn’t just _explode_ in real life. Sure bombs were real, but they weren’t _really_ real.

He’d never seen Okaa-san like this either. He’d seen her angry, or sad when Obaa-san died after being sick for a year, but now she just seemed to…shut down.

So he didn’t complain when it was bed time, he helped with his chores and more without her asking, he stayed with her when he wasn’t in school in case she was lonely. He’d felt sad sometimes, cried once or twice at the funeral. But when he daydreamed about Oyaji winning Magician of the Year five years in a row, or his laugh, or the latest magic trick he’d taught Kaito, he’d be pulled back to the sound of his mother’s quiet sobs as she tried to hide them by staying upstairs, and his stomach would just _drop_.

Now she was on an airplane to visit his grandfather in Paris, whom he’d never met. He was staying with the Nakamouris. He’d spent the day being strong for them.

Now Aoko was asleep upstairs. Her dad was in his home office on the phone, door closed.

Now it felt less like a sad movie and more like one where he was taken to another world and needed to get back home. Only he could never get back.

Sitting on the living room couch, Kaito looked at his hands and thought again about how many more calluses he’d have in the future from practicing magic. He’d always shown off and compared each new one with his dad’s. Oyaji would never see his next callus.

His stomach _dropped_ , and his open palms became wet with tears.

He didn’t know how long he cried, but it felt good enough that whenever he felt himself calming down, he’d look and listen to make sure he was still alone, and then he’d think about the birthday present he’d made that Oyaji would never open, or the beach trip they were supposed to be leaving for in the morning, just to make himself sob all over again.

He’d stared at the “Kuroba Touichi, Magician Extraordinaire!” hoodie he wore and was just starting another round when he felt arms around him. He jumped and looked up to see Nakamouri-san joining him on the couch, and his earlier crying had relieved him enough that he was able to draw upon Poker Face again. “Hey, Nakamouri-keibu.”

He knew he wasn’t fooling anyone.

Nakamouri-san just looked at him with bags under his eyes, saying nothing. Kaito saw the sadness in his eyes, and something else he couldn’t quite identify that said _you don’t have to be strong for me_.

So he cried in the man’s arms until sleep took him.

It was still dark when he woke from a dream about Oyaji coming home. He was curled around Aoko, who slept in a tight ball. Feeling wide awake, he sat up and prepped his Poker Face like Oyaji had taught him.

Then he heard Nakamouri-san with the coffee maker downstairs. After a pause, he dropped his Poker Face and quietly left for the stairs.

Maybe it was okay to be weak sometimes.

**Author's Note:**

> I know this could use some more editing (especially the ending, and making the tone feel like it's from a child), so please let me know your thoughts as I'm not very experienced but I want to improve. Thanks for reading!


End file.
